Goggle Boi
by Kitsune-no-Tenshi
Summary: Matt-centric. How Matt came to live at Wammy's. There's no basis in canon for this, so...it's AU.
1. Goggle Boi

AN: This will be my first multi-chaptered fic. I'm trying, you see! BTW, I do not own Death Note.

* * *

_November _

"But Mom," the seven year old boy whined, "why can't I have glasses like Will?"

The boy's mother turned towards him. "Because, sweetie," she explained patiently, "I've already told you; you have perfect eyesight. Will doesn't and he needs corrective lenses. Okay?"

"But Mo-om," the boy protested. His mother only smiled.

Will, who was ten, smiled at his younger brother. "Don't worry about it, Mail," he said. "They're not as cool as you think."

"But I want them, too!" Will and his mother smiled.

* * *

_December_

As the days got colder and snowier, Mail pestered his parents over and over for glasses. It was all he seemed to want. His bemused parents explained, repeatedly, that Mail didn't need glasses, and therefore would not be receiving any.

"Why do you want 'em, Mail?" Will asked one day.

"'Cause," Mail muttered, "_you_ have them. They're cool."

"You're cool anyway."

"They make you look smarter. I want to look smart and sophisticated, too."

"You _are_ smart. You don't need glasses for that."

But Mail couldn't seem to make Will understand that it was only his older brother that thought this way. The kids at school teased Mail and called him weird. Mail only wanted to be as cool and normal as his older brother. _He_ didn't see what was so weird about him, anyway. But it was hard to argue with playground logic.

Mail thought about himself, and his brother. They looked pretty much the same. Same nose. The same messy hair, though Will's was dark where Mail's was red, like their mother's. Will wore glasses, now, but their eyes were the same shape. Not the same color though; Will's eyes were blue like their father's.

Will, Mail reflected, was good at drawing, something that Mail envied. Will could draw anything. Mail's wobbly stick figures were just embarrassing. Whenever Mail pointed this out, Will would always point out that at seven, Mail already understood more about electronics than he did, more so even than their parents. But this did not assuage Mail's frustration, for this was one of the things he was teased about. _'It's weird,' the kids would taunt. 'Why do you like that stuff anyway? Why do you like weird stuff?' _

'Stupid,' thought Mail. 'It's stupid.' But whether he meant their reasons or his own interests, he could not have said.

_

* * *

__Christmas Eve_

After dinner, Will and Mail squirmed anxiously until their parents announced that it was time to open presents. With twin shrieks of delight, the boys raced into the living room, where the ornate tree that everyone had helped to decorate stood majestically in a corner, twinkling softly from its many lights. Underneath the tree lay the objects of the boys' desire: stacks of presents heaped two and three high, all the way around.

Everyone took turns opening presents. For Mrs. Jeevas there was a gold necklace. For Will there was a skateboard. Mr. Jeevas received a handsome pair of cufflinks. Mail's first present was a Gameboy. His eyes shone. Who cared if it was weird? He loved electronics.

There were other presents, too, handmade ones from the boys, and also the ones picked out with careful help from their parents. Will got quite a few art supplies, and Mail didn't even care, because it was Christmas. Finally, there was only one present left, and it had Mail's name on it. The previous year the last present had been for Will, because he was the oldest. This year, it was for Mail, because he was the youngest.

"This," Mrs. Jeevas explained, handing her younger son a small package, "is from all of us. Happy Christmas, Mail."

Mail accepted the gift and eagerly tore it open. Inside was a pair of goggles with yellow lenses. They had an adjustable strap that would make them fit more snugly or loosely depending on which way you pulled. Mail was delighted. After all, they were _practically_ glasses. "Thank you thankyouthankyou!" he shouted, hugging each member of his family in turn.

He wore them to bed that night.


	2. Arrivals and Departures

AN: Well, hi thar! Sorry these chapters are all so short. I'm best when writing at short bursts, hence why most of my fics here are drabbles. Let's wreck Matt's life!

AN (2): Thanks so much to Nyeh Creampuff, the first person to review/fave this story! Thank you! I hope you'll stay with me.

* * *

_End of January_

"You be good and listen to Mrs. Knowles," Mrs. Jeevas instructed, kissing Mail on the cheek. "We'll be back soon."

"But why can't I come with you to get Will's glasses checked?" Mail wondered. Unconsciously he touched the goggles that had adorned his head since Christmas. Mrs. Jeevas and Mrs. Knowles, the neighbor, shared a secret smile above Mail's head.

"Because," Mrs. Jeevas said, "it's going to be very boring, and," she went on more loudly, for Mail had begun to protest, "you haven't been feeling well. You need to stay home and recuperate."

"Aw, man," Mail grumbled. Mrs. Jeevas thanked Mrs. Knowles again, and the rest of the family waved goodbye as they headed, not to the optometrist for Will, but to the mall for Mail.

Mrs. Knowles distracted Mail with brownies and television, and artfully didn't mention anything at all about birthdays.

After Mail tired of television, Mrs. Knowles said that he might take apart a computer that she couldn't make work anymore. Mail delighted in taking things apart. He could usually put them back together, too. So he immersed himself in the machine, pulling out and sorting computer innards. As the afternoon edged on towards evening, Mrs. Knowles decided she'd better cook for them, just in case Mail's family didn't come back in time for dinner.

Night fell, and Mail had tired of playing with the computer. He'd taken it apart, put it back together, and then taken it apart and put it back together differently. He was bored. He started looking through Mrs. Knowles' books, and Mrs. Knowles began to fret to herself. Mrs. Jeevas had said they'd only be an hour or so. The older lady began to wonder if there had been an accident. Wordlessly, she served dinner, which for Mail, was hotdogs. He ate them with gusto.

After dinner, Mrs. Knowles excused herself to make a private phone call. She went upstairs and looked up the number for the mall. The person who answered promised to have the Jeevas family paged, but after ten minutes, no one in the mall had responded. Not knowing what else to do, Mrs. Knowles called the police station.

"I'm Hattie Knowles," she identified herself to the sergeant with whom she was speaking. "I'm sorry; I just don't know what to do, really. I'm watching the youngest son of my neighbors; they went out with their older boy hours ago and haven't come back. I can't reach them at the mall they said they'd be at; it's the younger one's birthday soon, you see."

"Alright, ma'am. Can you describe their car; the color, the make, the model, the year? Also descriptions of the family would be helpful."

Mrs. Knowles described the Jeevas family and their car, and the sergeant promised to call back within the hour, news or no. Mrs. Knowles thanked him and hung up, then went to put a reluctant Mail to bed. "They must've had a problem with Will's glasses," Mrs. Knowles invented when Mail asked after his family. "Go to sleep, duck, they'll be here in the morning." And she waited by the phone.

When it rang, she picked it up before it was completely through its first ring. "Hello?"

"Hattie Knowles?"

"Yes?"

"This is Sergeant Drake. We spoke earlier." He checked some details with her, and then hesitated. "I think you'd best come down to the station."

Mrs. Knowles' voice was a whisper. "What's happened?" she breathed.

"There's been an accident that matches your description of the car and family. Earlier tonight, we were called to the scene of a hit and run. It appears that a larger vehicle, perhaps an SUV, sideswiped a Merkur Scorpio, killing its three occupants. The other driver fled the scene. We'll…need you to identify the bodies."

"My god," Mrs. Knowles gasped. "I…but…I can't leave him…what if he wakes and I'm not here?"

"Are there any next of kin we should notify?"

"No…they never spoke of any family. They were both only children whose parents have already passed. Oh, my god, he's all alone!"

"You really should identify the bodies if you can, ma'am. It's the only way we can be sure. Otherwise, his family is missing and we'll have to start searching for them."

"I…okay. I'll run out quickly, then, shall I? Yes, I'll be right there."

At the police station, Mrs. Knowles sobbed as she identified the Jeevas family. "What's he going to do? He's got no family!" she wailed. Sergeant Drake promised to make some calls. Mrs. Knowles agreed to have the small family cremated. There was no one to pay for a funeral. "I'd best get back," she whispered some time later. "Oh, he's a good boy, and so smart, too! What's going to become of him?" And she hurried from the station so that Mail would at least have someone to wake up to.

"Smart?" mused the sergeant. He decided not to call the closest orphanage, opting instead for a number in London.

In the morning, Mrs. Knowles sat down with Mail and quietly explained to him that there had been an accident. He was a smart child; she saw no sense in lying to him. "They're in heaven, now," she choked, "watching over you." Mail said nothing, made no sound, but there were tears coursing down his cheeks. Ashamed, he pulled his goggles over his eyes to hide the tears.

Mail stayed at Mrs. Knowles' house for a few days, during which time a strange woman came to visit. She asked Mail a lot of questions, which Mrs. Knowles encouraged him to answer. He shrugged a lot and avoided eye contact. When she had gone, Mrs. Knowles helped Mail pack up things from his house. "Because wherever you end up, you'll want your own things," she explained.

By the end of the day, the strange lady returned, and Mrs. Knowles said goodbye. She helped put Mail in the car and hugged him goodbye. "You're going to be living in London, now," she told him.

During the car ride, Mail sat in silence and played on his Gameboy as the countryside swept past. He ignored all attempts at conversation. He didn't look up until the car stopped. The rep got out of the car and opened Mail's door for him. "Welcome to Wammy's House."


	3. When Matt met Mello

AN: Thanks to Ajax555 and Love is Hate, who reviewed, and to Nyeh Creampuff, who has stayed with me thus far! You guys make me feel...just...wow. Every time I read a review, I feel elated. Thanks for taking the time to read and comment! And it just figures that you guys like the story that's given me the most trouble... (but only 'cause I think I'm terrible at writing longer fics) Onward!

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* * *

__January 31__st_

The House was immense. Mail couldn't take it all in as he was led through the massive front doors and down what seemed like countless halls. He was left with an old man called Roger, who explained, not unkindly, that his old life was over. Here, he was to be given a new life, a chance to grow and to learn.

"We usually give out new names, too," Roger explained. "Let's see…how about William?"

"_NO!_" Mail exclaimed, crying without realizing it. Through his sobs, Roger was able to make out the words, "my brother."

Roger did his best to calm Mail down, and apologized profusely. "Then how about Matt?" he suggested. Mail sniffled.

"I guess that's okay," he acquiesced. Everything was happening very quickly. A new home, a new name, new faces to memorize, grief that was still too raw. What did it matter what his name was? He'd never see his family again.

Matt, as he was now to be called, was led in a daze to a new room and left to settle in.

He didn't bother to put his clothes away. It seemed so final. He looked about the room instead. There was a bed, a window, a dresser and closet, a bedside table with a lamp and alarm clock. There was a picture on the wall of a landscape at sunset. Or maybe it was sunrise. Matt didn't care. Matt crawled onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. It felt wrong. The bed wasn't the right firmness, and it faced the wrong direction.

Tomorrow, he reflected hollowly, was his birthday. He was going to be eight. He decided he didn't care. There was no one to celebrate with. He doubted the orphanage even knew. Orphanage. That's where he was. He was an orphan. The word echoed inside him. He felt empty. He watched the shadows creep slowly across the walls.

_

* * *

_

February 1

_st_

His birthday. He didn't feel any different from yesterday. There were no presents, no cake, no acknowledgement. He stayed in his room and didn't speak when they brought him food.

_

* * *

_

February

After solitude became boring, Matt ventured out of his room. His self-imposed isolation had lasted ten days. During that time he had thought a lot. His eight year old mind was advanced beyond his years, and eventually his grief ebbed enough for him to talk himself out of depression. He made a decision to leave his room. When he'd been brought here, there had been mention of classes. He thought it best if he didn't fall behind.

He walked through the halls to see Roger with his goggles down. He felt less noticeable this way. Just because he was out of his room didn't mean he wanted to _talk_ to anyone. He was just bored of watching the ceiling. There were a lot of children in the halls. There were older children and ones younger even than himself. They all seemed to have some kind of purpose as they navigated the halls. But behind a few doors he heard crying.

Matt found Roger's office with little incident. At the time, he had been too numb, he thought, to notice much of his surroundings. But his brain had filed everything away, and now it availed him as a map formed in his mind. Roger agreed to let Matt take the placement tests that day. Matt picked the courses he wanted with no input from Roger. He could do as he liked, Roger explained.

Roger discussed Matt's results with some of the members of staff.

"Quite amazing, really. There are not very many children here who are even close."

"Do we have another Near?"

"Mmm…perhaps. He'll likely find himself in competition for L's attention, at any rate. My goodness."

Matt was allowed to take the classes he wanted. He was placed in advanced courses, with an emphasis on computer training. He wanted to be able to put them back together the right way every time.

_

* * *

__March_

Matt enjoyed his classes. He found himself to be almost completely bored by literature, so he dropped that and took up a game programming course. Games were something he adored, whether they were for video console or computer. He thought it might be interesting to see how they worked, and why.

Matt had made no friends, so far. He didn't really care. Some of the children had been friendly towards him, but Matt ignored them. They held no interest for him.

At Wammy's, Matt had found that there were a lot of kids with specialized interests. There seemed to be an underlying competitiveness between kids who shared the same areas of study. Matt didn't care about grades. He was happier knowing that he wouldn't be teased for liking a certain thing. Although he was sure he could hear people laughing about his goggles. Their whispered taunts seemed to follow him down the halls.

_

* * *

__April_

Matt settled into his new routine. He got up, went to classes, and then did as he liked until bedtime. He usually went back to his room after his last class and played on his Gameboy, or his new acquisition, a Playstation. When he got tired of playing games, he would take a break to do his homework. He usually turned it in.

Almost against his will, Matt found that his grades were in the top percentile. He took classes that he thought might distract him for awhile. When the classes interested him, he paid attention and did the work. He couldn't help but do the work well, but he wasn't interested in the attention it garnered him. Matt didn't want to be the top student in the school (orphanage) (what_ever_); he just wanted people to leave him to his own devices. And not to be bored.

There was a boy called Near. Matt knew this not because he paid attention to the rank listings, but because pretty much everyone talked about him, at least in whispers. He was ranked number 1 in Wammy's House. Matt always kind of thought of him as a sheep or a cloud. His hair was white, and he wore white clothes, and looked small and soft.

Sometimes, while walking down the halls, Matt thought he heard people say his name in the same sentence as Near's. Sometimes, after, people would 'accidentally' run into him. Matt would sometimes mumble, "watch it," into his books. Most of the time he just continued on his way.

_

* * *

__June _

Matt found himself bumped into with increasing frequency. Some of the kids who brushed by him would throw out a comment about his, "stupid goggles". But nothing they could say would ever make him give those up. The protectiveness he felt for his goggles reached deeper into him than anything else did.

Matt was trading in his Playstation for a new Wammy's acquisition: a Sega Genesis. People, most likely former inhabitants, donated to Wammy's from all over the world. They donated toys, clothes, games, books, and money. Wammy's let the children pick things out and trade them in.

Matt had gotten his new toy safely ensconced in his room when he remembered that he'd better trade in his games, too. He pelted back to the games room and selected enough games to last him for a few weeks, at least. He started back to his room, looking forward to trying out his new game. He didn't see the foot deliberately placed in his path, but suddenly he was on the ground. His games flew out of his hands and scattered. He managed to partially break his fall by putting his arms out, but his knees, chest and chin hit the ground hard. He thought he tasted blood.

"Spaz," someone above him sneered. There was laughter. Matt was thinking abstractly about getting angry, when there was a crash above him. Someone else was now on the floor with him.

"Hey!" the person who had caused the crash declared loudly. "There's gonna be some changes, here!"

Matt looked up, blindly reaching for his games. The newcomer was a blond boy about his age.

"From now on," the blond continued, "I'm gonna be doing the bullying here. Anyone else will hafta answer to me. I'll be the new justice of this place."

"Who the hell do you think you are?" demanded the kid who had tripped Matt. He got to his feet angrily. "You wanna go, punk?"

"The name's Mello. You'd do best to remember it."

The boy Mello had tripped now rushed at Mello, but the blond wasn't fazed. He looked as though he'd seen a few fights before. When the other boy neared him, Mello sidestepped neatly and tripped his attacker. "Maybe if you apologize to me, I'll let you go," he suggested.

The would-be bully decided that he'd best not push his luck. He muttered something that might have been an apology, and might have been, "we'll settle this later." The watching crowd dispersed, suddenly remembering that it had other things to do. Right then.

Matt stood up. "Thanks," he said, goggles askew.

Mello sneered. "I didn't do it for _you_," he said. "I want people to know that I'm gonna be top dog. Capish?"

"Sure," Matt muttered. On impulse, he added, "then you'll have to beat Near."

"Is that a person?" Mello demanded. "What a stupid name," he went on without waiting for an answer. "So who is he?"

"Number one," Matt replied succinctly. Mello scowled.

"We'll see," he vowed. He turned to go. "Hey, kid," he called. Matt looked up. He had finally regained his games.

"Yeah?"

"You got a name?"

"Matt," the redhead replied.

Mello smiled a predator's smile. "Don't get in my way." And he was gone.


	4. Feels Like Friendship

AN: I'm updating again because I got reviews! Thank you guys SO MUCH! I literally squee'd when I saw I had more comments. You guys are so great. Special thanks to Nyeh Creampuff and Ajax555 who've stayed with me! I hope you guys like this one. I'm working on more as we speak (read?).

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August

Mello was making a name for himself at Wammy's, in more ways than one. He had made short work of packs of bullies, asserting himself over those older than him, but not tougher. No one was tougher than Mello. The thing about Mello, was, he didn't care about protecting defenseless kids. He cared about making sure no one messed with him. So he was the toughest, and he made damn sure that everyone knew it.

Also, in two months of residence at Wammy's, he had secured the rank of Number 2. He had usurped Matt's position, though the goggle-adorned boy could not be said to care. It was with ease that Mello cut through the ranks of those who had come before him, and strived for so long. But he was thwarted from being the very best by Near. So Mello resolved to actually try. And in the meantime, make that white-haired freak's life a living hell. Not that he was jealous or anything.

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* * *

_

August 24

_th_

Mello had found out that it was Near's birthday. He made sure to drop by his self-proclaimed rival's room and throw the prized Godzilla to the floor.

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* * *

_

September

Matt was building a computer. It was slow going, and he had to do a lot of research outside of his classes to help him, but he had found in this endeavor a passion that he had for so long been without. It was just too hard, he had realized, to hack from the library. And while he was sure that he could get a laptop from somewhere, perhaps the games room, he knew, just _knew_ that Wammy's would be able to monitor that, as well. The thought rankled. And so, to beat the system, he decided to create his own.

In the meantime, Matt decided to take a class called Profiling. He thought this might help him think the right way for tracking people down, which was essential when spying on someone, in the flesh or not. Matt rather liked the idea of being a spy, listening to conversations meant to be private, lurking where he wasn't supposed to be, garnering information that no one would know he knew.

Mello _and_ Near were taking the same class. Near absorbed information while staring dreamily into space, a finger, like as not, curling in his hair. Mello's rapt gaze was fixed on the teacher, except when he was shooting death glares at Near. Matt listened idly, doodling on a notebook, occasionally writing something down.

It was here that Matt was first made aware of the world of classes that he was not taking. Classes that catered to would-be detectives (and spies, his brain supplied), classes that would help these child geniuses to become L.

L? L. Matt hadn't really heard the name before. He did some digging, some listening, and some snooping in Roger's office (which turned out to be fruitless, and he was almost discovered) and learned that L was the world's greatest detective and that he had lived at Wammy's as a child. Near and Mello were competing for the chance to be his successor. Practically the entire orphanage was. Matt didn't care about the title; he wondered if he could break into L's computer.

Matt started to take some of the classes that Near and Mello were. To be a better spy, he told himself. Classes that had names like Behavioral Analysis, which had a lot to do with analyzing patterns of individuals and groups of people, and extrapolating information from there, and Ciphering, which had as much to do with creating unidentifiable means of communication as breaking them.

As Matt and Mello began to see more of each other, they seemed to gravitate towards the other. Not Near, though. Matt felt as though the white-haired boy was almost as anti-social as he was. Although, the same _could_ be said for Mello. Matt didn't know what it was, but at times they seemed to share a smile, and when they saw each other in the halls, or outside at play, Mello never tried to bully Matt. In fact, it was Mello, who dominated the soccer field, who encouraged Matt to join his team one day. And Matt, for reasons he could not comprehend, accepted.

Mello's team won that day, with a goal each from the blond and Matt. Mello was so elated with his victory that he offered to buy Matt a soda. Laughing, flushed with their success, they tramped inside to the dimmer hallways and to a bank of vending machines. Mello dug in his pockets for change, and handed some to Matt. "Here," he said, gesturing towards the soda machine. He went to the one next to Matt's and hit the buttons that would produce a Hershey's bar.

Matt's machine rumbled and soon he was holding a cold can of Mountain Dew. Mello unwrapped his chocolate and took a large chomp out of the bar. "That," he said, "was one good game."

"Yeah," Matt agreed, surprised at how natural this felt. It was odd; Mello didn't usually associate with other kids, at least on friendly terms, but this moment felt like friendship.


	5. Holidays

AN: Firstly, thanks to anyone who reads, and my lovely reviewers, Ajax555, September Rhyme, BlakValentyne-U62 and Nyeh Creampuff. And cookies to you, September Rhyme; I was kind of thinking of 'Sk8er Boi' (by Avril Lavigne-which I don't own!) when I made the title. And if anyone's confused about anything, please PM me or something! And, omg, BlakValentyne, I could NOT WAIT for Roger to suggest William as Matt's new name. Though you'd think he'd do some research, wouldn't you? Anyway, I don't think I'm done quite yet. A little more, so stay with me. (Please?)

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October

Mello and Matt had taken to doing their homework in each other's rooms. Mello liked being in Matt's room because he didn't like people in his territory. Matt liked being in Mello's room because then Mello wasn't in danger of breaking his stuff. They sprawled on the floor or the bed, with the window open for light and air. It was still warm out, but every so often there would be a cold breeze, or a brisk day that made them think of the coming of winter.

"Why do you wear those goggles all the time?" Mello asked one day, all curiousness. Sometimes kids asked him that, and Matt ignored them, because screw them. But Mello was his friend, and wasn't teasing, so he was honest.

"They were the last Christmas present from my family. Right before…they died. And my brother wore glasses, and I wanted glasses, and this was as close as they could get. And," he was softer now, almost reluctant to admit this last, "when I wear them I feel…I don't know." He paused for a moment, and Mello was, blissfully, silent. "It feels like they help me concentrate. When I'm thinking, and stuff. And…" this was the hardest part, because it was so _stupid_, "when they're down, I feel like…invisible. Like I can hide, if I want."

And Mello, who could have laughed at him, who could have teased, who had known Matt for such a short time, forever endeared himself to the redhead by accepting what his companion had offered. He was silent for a long while, absorbing this. At length, he responded, though not to what Matt had said.

"I used to be at this orphanage called Saint Michael's. I fought a lot there. Mostly 'cause I was upset about my family. I… I'm pretty emotional. They were having a hard time dealing with me. They were just about to ship me off to this government orphanage, which sounded hellish, when Mr. Wammy came and took me here."

Matt didn't say anything, but accepted Mello's story in silence as Mello had his. It was obviously a touchy subject for Mello, or he wouldn't have brought it up; he seemed to be trying to put Matt at ease by opening himself up. Matt cherished it for the rarity that it was.

"Hey," Mello said, breaking the silence, "you do that essay for Profiling yet?"

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October 31

For Halloween, the children were encouraged to pick out costumes from the massive array of donated clothes. They trick-or-treated inside, going to various classrooms. The teachers handed out candy and hosted parties inside their classrooms. The cafeteria had been turned into a haunted house.

Mello wanted to go, and so Matt went too. The two were becoming inseparable, and it felt inevitable. Matt went as the Joker, and painted his face white. Mello was, predictably, the devil.

They filled their pillowcases with candy and then went to see the haunted house. Neither one of them admitted that they found it spooky. They laughed at the littler kids, who threw themselves into the spirit of Halloween and were shrieking at anything even remotely scary, including the fake spiders. Once they were sufficiently scared (_not)_ they left by unspoken agreement and went to Mello's room to divvy up the loot. Mello made Matt trade all his chocolate, but Matt got some cool stuff in return, including vampire teeth and a green lollipop shaped like an alien head that was as big as his fist.

They stayed up late, telling scary stories and trying not to be the first one who admitted he was scared. Matt didn't want to leave to walk back to his room all by himself, but he would never say so. Mello solved the problem for him by putting in a scary movie, and they fell asleep in front of Mello's 13" TV.

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* * *

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November

"It's my birthday soon," Mello said one day.

"Oh, yeah?" Matt tipped some Mountain Dew down his throat. "When?"

"December 13th." Mello toyed with a rosary around his neck.

"Um…what do you want for your birthday?" Matt asked. He felt like this was something he should say.

"Hm? Oh, nothing." Mello shrugged, then grinned. "Let's just hang out or something. Whatever."

"Yeah." Matt nodded, and drained the last of his soda. "Cool."

"Hey, when's your birthday?" Mello inquired.

"Oh? February 1st."

"Cool. We're only, like, a month and a half apart."

"Cool," Matt agreed.

As the days turned colder, the rivalry between Mello and Near heated up. Near was content to do his studies, so long as he remained Number 1. Mello forewent hours of lounging with Matt to study, intent on beating his foe. And it seemed to be paying off. Every week, it seemed, they traded places. But Mello's frustration stemmed from the fact that he couldn't _hold_ the title. He ran his fingers through his hair a lot, and his short temper shortened. For his part, Matt tried to keep his head down and wait for the storm to pass.

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December 13

It snowed. It was bright, though, the day he turned nine. Matt woke Mello up with an insistent hammering on his door and a bar of chocolate. When Mello sleepily admitted his friend, Matt's grin lit up the room.

"Happy birthday!" he cried, presenting the chocolate to his friend. "Presents later. Wanna go play in the snow?"

"Matt. You woke me up. On my _birthday_. What the hell?"

"Oh, get over it. C'mon, the snow looks wet. We could make forts and have a snowball fight." His tone was cajoling and Mello had to admit that Matt made a good point. A snowball fight…

"I don't suppose we could get Near to come out. I'd love to pelt him some."

"He never does," Matt said dismissively. "C'mon. Me and you. Five minutes. Epic snowball fight."

So Mello got dressed and he and Matt waged war in the snow-covered yard. They trooped inside hours later, warm from their exertions, laughing and recounting tales of their prowess.

Matt micro waved hot chocolate and they thawed their toes by the heater vents. From somewhere, Matt produced a package that had been badly wrapped. Matt waved off Mello's questions and protests. "I found 'em and thought you might like 'em," he remarked. "Just open it."

Mello tore off the paper and lifted out a pair of heavy duty leather boots. He decided to voice his appreciation with some grown up words to celebrate his older status. "Bitchin.'"

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December 25

For Christmas, there were presents for all the children, and singing, and cookies, and movies. The presents weren't very personal, except when exchanged between the children. But everyone got something from Santa, and they had turkey for dinner. Afterwards, Matt and Mello retired to Matt's room to digest their tryptophan.

"It's nice how they try," Mello murmured drowsily. "But I don't think any of the kids here will really forget how nice Christmas at home is."

Matt shrugged. This was his first Christmas without his family, and he felt homesick more than anything. "What'd you do?" he asked, slightly changing the subject.

"Oh, we had dinner, and went to Mass, and opened presents. But it's more about being with the family than anything."

Matt, who had been thinking along the same lines, didn't say anything.

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December 31

Though they were encouraged to go to sleep, Matt and Mello stayed up late to ring in the New Year with paper hats and noisemakers. They watched fireworks go up from London and couldn't help but to "ooh" and "aah". It was a glorious display.

As the exploding fireworks boomed in the distance, Matt reflected that he'd been here for almost a year. He wondered what tomorrow, and another year at the orphanage, would bring.


	6. Reflections in the Winter

AN after the chapter, as there's quite a few, methinks.

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January

Life sets its own pace, Matt reflected. Sometimes, it comes at you so fast you don't have time to even breathe. In the space between one breath and the next, everything's different. And then again, he thought, sometimes time and life are a snail. Gradually creeping onward in the slow progression of things, so that when you look up, everything's changed. I guess, he thought, change happens no matter what.

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February

Rain. In the midst of winter, rain fell, melting the snow and falling softly to the earth. There was a cool breeze, but it felt more like a promise of spring than a warm winter's day.

Spring, of course, was a long way off, and it snowed again, many times. The trees glistened blackly against the stark white sky, wrapped in ice and trying valiantly to shake off the snow. Inside Wammy's, however, the children flourished like hot-house flowers. Mello and Matt often snuck down to one of several large fireplaces to make S'mores with stolen ingredients. In the camaraderie of broken rules, Mello even shared some chocolate to complete Matt's ill-gotten snacks. And, for his birthday, Mello had gotten Matt a Dreamcast, which had recently appeared among the new toys.

Matt played on the Dreamcast for awhile, before he decided to incorporate it into his computer. He had decided that 'computer' was not accurate, though. Now, he wanted to build a super-computer. Or at least a network. And the more stuff he added, the cooler it would be. Matt's room was slowly acquiring more and more wires, processors, and video game consoles than was healthy. Floor space was at a premium. But it drove him as nothing else did, and children at Wammy's were encouraged to pursue their projects.

When he stopped to think about it, which wasn't often, Matt reflected that he'd come a long way. Nine years old, and friends with the toughest kid in an orphanage for genius children. Nine years old, and the third smartest kid in the whole place, according to the rank listings (which Matt scorned but Mello harped on and _on _about). Nine years old, and chasing after the shadow of a man he'd never met. They all were. Matt didn't want to be L; he was on good terms with the fact that he was Matt, and not too keen to change his name again. But in one way or another, everyone there was striving to follow in L's footsteps. Matt wasn't sure if this was destiny or not. He wasn't sure how he felt about destiny. It was there, he supposed, just like the rest of the world.

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March

"I heard some of the older kids saying that L was taking cases by the time he was eight," Mello griped. He was leaning on Matt's bed, his homework forgotten.

"Mmhm," Matt vocalized. Mello went on as though Matt hadn't spoken at all.

"I mean, here I am, nine, still in school. How can L have been working criminal cases since he was younger than me?! I should be out there. I should be taking cases; putting people away."

"Yeah," Matt agreed automatically. He was trying to get his Dreamcast to run with his computer.

"I mean: what the _hell?_ How can he be that good?"

Matt looked up, distracted by Mello's rising voice. "He's L," he told his friend simply. Mello looked like he was about to throw a fit, so Matt started talking. "And anyway, whoever you heard that from, it's probably not true. How could an eight-year-old kid take cases? That'd be like us taking cases; it's just not gonna happen. I bet there's tons of stories like that about L, and I bet none of them are true. Or almost none, anyway. Look, Mello, don't worry about it, okay? Stories like these are like old wives' tales. They can't be true."

Mello looked slightly calmer, but Matt could tell that the blond was not about to forget what he'd heard. "I bet Near couldn't take cases at eight," he muttered, picking up his fallen homework. Matt pretended not to hear.

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Third Sunday in March

There was an Easter egg hunt, and Mello participated because there were real eggs and plastic eggs, and inside the plastic eggs were candy. There was also a prize for the most real eggs found, and Mello made sure he won. He redeemed his eggs for more candy, and spent the rest of the day popping small chocolate eggs smugly into his mouth. Matt stayed inside despite Mello's insistence that he help hunt for eggs. He didn't like being surrounded by shrieking kids. Mello forgave Matt for not helping him, though, and even gave Matt the jelly beans inside the fake eggs.

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End of March

Cold days lingered, but there was no denying that spring was coming to the land. Soft, new grass came up through the ground, and the first crocuses bravely showed their faces. Rain came back to England, though the fear of snow would remain into April. There were soft, gentle rains, and harsh, torrential rains, and pounding rains accompanied by rolling thunder. So long as it wasn't snow, no one complained.

Mello and Near continued a silent battle for academic dominance. (Well, it was silent on Near's part. Mello was very vocal.) Matt experimented with 'borrowed' software.

What I need, thought Matt, is a way to keep an external copy of these programs. He'd have to give back the software CDs he'd taken eventually, and he wanted a way to keep them without having to install them on his computer. I wonder, he mused, frustrated, if there's a way for me to copy the CDs. But he couldn't see a way around this problem, at least not yet, and he snuck some of the software back into the library for other kids to use. The others he grudgingly replaced in the teacher's lounge.

Every once in awhile, the sun shone through the clouds.

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AN: Thanks for sticking with me and reviewing, everyone! You can skip this if you like, but I'm going to answer any questions and acknowledge quite a few people! In the last chapter, I gave Mello a rosary AND a devil costume. My thinking on this is that Mello wears a cross/rosary in the manga, so I thought it'd be okay for him to wear one in my fic. And just because he has faith doesn't mean that he isn't a little kid. And kids like devil costumes. nods. Uh-huh. Also, there're no molds for anyone to fit into, even though people really just want to belong. We don't always feel like we do, but hey. Wow, I'm rambling. I really mean to say that Mello's just a badass. He'll do what he wants (as proven in the story, by any means!), and anyway, how many costumes does Wammy's have? idk, but I bet even supercool Wammy's is limited.

Hmm...people who don't like Mountain Dew...are lame...(just kidding. But I love it). And whee for little kids on sugar! And seriously, 'cool' has got to be THE most over-used word in the English language...and why not? It's so versatile. (...maybe?)

So thanks to my newer reviewers, Kinder Wolf and Kitty Otaku, and of course, Nyeh Creampuff, Ajax555, September Rhyme, and BlakValentyne-U69, who've stayed with me. You guys are special and all deserve brownies. I feel inspired to write more every time I see that you're still reading this. You guys just like to see your names on the Internet, don't you? /laughs/ so do I. Thanks also to anyone who reads this, even if you don't review. Challenge me, guys! Keep asking me questions! And a quick question to all of you: how far do you think this should go? I kind of want to write them all a bit older...would you be mad if I time-skipped?


	7. Near

AN: Sorry I haven't updated in awhile! Let's see.../searches for an excuse/ um, big weekend? And my sister's birthday, too. Happy bday! Anyway, thanks for waiting, and sticking with me. /takes a huge breath/ Thanks to the following: Nyeh Creampuff, Ajax555, Love is Hate, BlakValentyne-U69, Kitty Otaku, KinderWulf, September Rhyme, DaybreakFlower, specialsari, and Darkness-Ninja-Princess. Thanks to anyone who reads, also. You guys are the reason I'm still writing this. I think, without your input, I would've stopped awhile ago. (maybe...?) And thanks for all the input from last chapter. I'm not planning on skipping yet, but I did want to know your views, so thanks for sharing. Anyway, here's a quick chapter before bed (I have to wake up ungodly early tomorrow). You guys are amazing!

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April

Warm days, though not an end to the rain, came at last. All over the countryside, people cautiously poked their heads out to feel the blessed warmth. Even at Wammy's, time was found to play in the puddles and soak in the sun. Everyone felt more invigorated with the warmer weather. Mello and Matt spent an entire afternoon traipsing around Wammy's extensive grounds. In the evening, however, Mello would not be dislodged from his books, doing his homework like penance.

Matt sometimes thought that his friend was driving himself too hard, but after bringing it up a few times, never mentioned it again. Mello would only launch into a tirade about beating Near, and Matt had heard it all before. Mello was bitter that he had to study when Near so effortlessly kept ahead of him. Matt didn't think Near had it so easy; the boy was isolated; he never played with the other children, and his desire to be Number one matched Mello's. Matt noticed this, but refrained from mentioning it. He didn't want to get yelled at again.

Before Mello had come to Wammy's, Matt couldn't remember paying much attention to Near. He'd heard of him, sure, but he'd never given the boy much thought. Of course, that could have something to do with the fact that he'd only recently lost his family. But Mello's obsessive interest in Near bordered on paranoia, and Matt couldn't help but be drawn into Mello's world. Still, though it was easier to just do as Mello said, Matt resolved not to let other people do his thinking for him. He decided it would be a good test of his trailing skills to watch Near. Since they took some of the same classes, it shouldn't be too hard.

Matt started paying closer attention to Near. The boy was quietly competent, excelling at all of his classes. Matt knew that much, already. He looked harder. Near played with his hair when he was thinking, or agitated. He sat weird, but a two-year old could have told you that. He sometimes sat with his head cocked to the side, as if listening to some far off sound that no one else could hear.

One day, Matt followed Near to his room. He came back when he knew that Near would be elsewhere. He stood outside the door for a long while, steeling himself. 'It's not breaking in,' he told himself. 'We all live in the same place; I'm just going to look around. I'm not going to take anything. I just want to see his room. This is totally not against any rules. I _can't_ get into trouble for being here. No one cares.' After a lot of furtive glances, Matt finally turned the knob.

Near's room was filled with toys. They covered every available surface. Matt saw the Godzilla that Mello had once thrown to the floor. That's right, Matt reminded himself. Mello's been in here, before, too. There were robots and puzzles and Dominoes and dice. There were dolls and cars and…how the hell did Near collect so much junk?

Everything was organized and seemed to have a place. Just like Near, to organize his toys, Matt reflected. There were model ships and kits, and everything was stacked neatly, and probably alphabetically. Matt decided not to risk opening any drawers. At least, not yet. He took one last look around, trying to memorize the room, before he turned to go.

And almost ran headlong into Near.

"Uh," Matt sputtered. The white-haired boy didn't say anything. He merely gazed up at Matt, an unreadable expression on his face. There was a finger in his hair, Matt noticed absently.

"You don't have to apologize," Near said. "I'm sure you were only curious."

"I…I…um, that is…" Matt cursed his stumbling tongue. Mello would probably have a smooth lie ready, or a scathing retort.

"Excuse me," Near said, slipping past Matt and into his room. The door closed silently behind him.

Matt was left standing in the hall, berating himself for taking so long to go into the room. If he'd made up his mind a bit faster, he'd probably have got off scot-free.

Inside his room, Near was silently counting every one of his possessions, to make sure they were all still there.

Matt stomped off, trying to decided if his Near-tailing experiment had been a failure or not, and whether or not to continue. He supposed he hadn't learned anything he didn't already know, except about Near's freakishly large toy collection. There's got to be more to him, Matt figured. He doesn't isolate himself for nothing. He doesn't sit like that for nothing. No child was so driven that they pushed everything else away. Even Mello had Matt.

But he's onto me, now, Matt mused as he finally regained the sanctuary of his room. He'll be watching. Waiting. In that case, Matt resolved, I'll just have to be more careful. It would be good training for his spy days. Or something. Matt wasn't sure he wanted to be a traditional spy. He'd rather focus on his computer, which was coming along more slowly than he'd like. Once it was completed, though, Matt was sure he'd be able to use his (super)computer to spy on people. It would be more effective than following someone around with a notebook. Or, maybe he was going about this the wrong way. Maybe he had to somehow combine the two. He didn't know how, but he would figure it out.

For the rest of the month, Matt surreptitiously followed Near, but he couldn't find anything that told him of Near's past. He already knew Near's present; he wanted to see _why_ the boy was the way he was. When his tailing provided no results, Matt decided he'd better focus on getting his computer running. Maybe there was something in the Wammy files that could tell Matt more about his friend's rival.


	8. May

AN: 'K, I'm back. Sorry for the long update delay. As you may have noticed on my main page, I've been having problems with my computer. It's fixed now, but I lost almost everything. Extreme sadface. /sighs/ So I had to rewrite what I had in progress, and it's not the same, but I tried, and I will try to soldier on. Again, I apologize for the delay, and I truly hope there are still people out there reading this. Thanks to everyone who reads and reviews. And, Ajax, you changed your name! Threw me off for a second, there. Okay, here we go.

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May

Matt spent his days working on his computer. He forewent mindless hours of playing video games to ensconce himself in the library with manuals and dry texts on computers. He pored through endless data online to see what others had done. Though he fidgeted away from his games, he knew that this would ultimately bring him more happiness. And the library was worth it.

The main library at Wammy's was huge. There were actually two floors, and a dedicated staff who maintained the aisles. There were computers, as well, and shelves upon rows upon mountains of books. The library also had a fireplace, large enough for three kids to sit in side by side. Arranged around the fireplace were couches and chairs. Opposite the wall with the hearth was a wall of windows, so there was always light. There was another library close to the play room that had children's books, but the main library was used for studying. Matt made good use of it.

During class hours, students and teachers alike tried to concentrate as the days lengthened and the sun shone tauntingly into the classrooms. Wind sighed through the willows, and insects could be heard droning in their vast expanses of freedom. Soon, the weather seemed to promise. Soon, school will be out. And then it would be time to play.

There were quite a few students, however, who would not be taking the summer off. Near always elected to take classes during the summer, and Mello was loathe to fall behind, so he signed up for classes as well. Matt would be taking classes, too, but not because he cared about staying ahead in the rank listings. There were some classes offered during the summer that weren't available during the regular school year, and Matt was going to avail himself of all the knowledge he could cram into his head. There were other students, too, who were going to take summer courses. These were the students who fought so desperately for the top rank positions. Matt almost felt sorry for them, when he remembered to think about it. Almost. But they were so far out of the league that Mello and Near were in, it pretty much didn't matter what they did. They were practically below his radar.

When Matt made an offhand remark to Mello about this, his friend had surprised him with the viciousness of his reply. "Dogs," he snapped, "squabbling over scraps. Completely oblivious to the feast taking place above them."

Matt didn't know how to respond to this, so he'd laughed a little, nervously. He wondered if Mello feared that he would be usurped, or if he really felt such contempt for those he considered beneath him. Was his inferiority complex so severe? Matt didn't know, but he vowed to keep an eye on his friend, lest Mello lose his place and spiral into depression.

Matt stayed up late at night, his windows thrown open to let in cool breezes. He was wiring his computer, finally putting things together. He made accommodations to allow for more RAM and installed his own CD/DVD drives (_very_ carefully). He wouldn't allow himself to rush, although the excitement of being _so close_ was like a fire in his blood. He worked patiently, forcing himself to be two times slower than he knew he had to be. He only went to bed when he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer, or he feared that his fatigue would compromise his project.

He caught up on sleep during class whenever he could. Usually his teachers just woke him up and frowned disapprovingly at him. He made a point not to fall asleep in that particular class for at least a week. He slept in other classes, rotating his sleep schedule and his teachers' ire. Every once in awhile, when he had been woken by this teacher or that, he would feel Near's eyes upon him. But whenever he looked, the pale boy always had his gaze fixed firmly on the teacher. Matt wondered if Near was observing him as closely as he had observed Near. Was Near's interest only piqued because Matt had slipped up and let the boy know that _he _was interested? Or was he, Matt, interesting in his own right? Matt decided he didn't care for circular riddles with no answers, so he put it from his mind as best he could. So what if Near watched him sometimes? Soon, Matt would be able to watch anyone he wanted. So long as there was a single thing written about them on a computer, Matt would be able to find it. He knew he could do it; he just had to _finish_ building his computer. And perhaps his network. And then, he figured, he would be unstoppable. Or something.

The days dawned bright and warm, and the nights were cool and long. Summer was coming. Rest was a long way off.


	9. Eureka!

AN: /deep breath/ Thanks to: Love is Hate, Nyeh Creampuff, Count Sheepula, September Rhyme, BlakValentyne-U69, Kinder Wulf, Kitty Otaku, DaybreakFlower, specialsari, Sarcastic-Lovely-Kit, and deikitty for their reviews. Thanks to anyone who reads but doesn't review. Oh, and September Rhyme-best wishes to your computer! So, yeah, I'm still alive. If anyone has any questions about this chapter, leave them in a review or PM me. I tried to explain as I went. I wrote a lot of this before work today, and I finished the rest of it after work (it's approaching 1 in the am; woo!), and I hope it turned out okay. But I daresay you guys will let me know, ne? Thanks for sticking with me! Next chapter is in progress.

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End of May

It was a balmy night. Matt had the windows thrown open again, in a vain attempt to tempt in a non-existent breeze. But the night was still, and it was warm in his room. Matt didn't notice. He was putting the finishing touches on his computer and his world had shrunk to the pieces in front of him. A few more adjustments and he'd be done. Finally, after another three quarters of an hour, Matt finally screwed the case on. He was done.

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Later

Matt battled with Wammy's security. He'd known that just _having_ a computer wouldn't be enough. Once he was finished, he had to crack into the mainframe, and that meant circumventing the countless firewalls and blocks that the system threw up in its defense. He'd known ahead of time that it wouldn't be easy; Wammy's was protecting more than itself; the secrets of quite a few people were at stake. But Matt was also confident in his abilities. And once he began the process of breaking into the system, he knew that this was where he belonged. He felt at home here; hunched over the glow of his monitor, typing furiously, trying to implement his own programs so that he could just open a back door and seize root. It was exhilarating.

It was exhaustion, in the end, that won the first round. Matt figured that he should have waited a day or so to catch up on sleep before beginning his trek into locked corridors of information, but he was so pumped at the completion of his computer that he couldn't hold himself back. Reluctantly, he stopped for the night, his eyes closing almost before he could lay himself down. He slept lightly, and dreamed of codes.

When Matt woke up in the late morning, he was eager to begin again. He cast around his room, searching for an unopened can of, well, anything. Eventually he found a mostly full 20 oz bottle of Code Red Mountain Dew. It was a bit warm, but he drained half of the remaining contents anyway. He decided to skip his classes. Around three, Mello poked his head into Matt's room to see if he was doing alright. Matt motioned for Mello to come in, but refused to talk. Mello looked for a clean place to sit down and failed. He perched gingerly on Matt's unmade bed.

"You okay?" Mello asked uncertainly.

Matt made a noise that was probably an affirmative.

"Well, what've you been doing all day?" Mello demanded. Matt's shoulders twitched in irritation. Mello sighed in exasperation. "Well, take care of yourself, Matt," he said. Matt nodded. He barely heard Mello leave.

Matt took a break an hour later to rest his fingers and let one of his programs run. He visited a block of vending machines and bought several cans of Monster and some Doritoes. Then he hurried back to his room, where he was relieved to find that his computer had not fallen apart without him. He cracked one of the cans of Monster open and chugged half the can's contents before ripping open the bag of Doritoes for later consumption. Supplied now with fuel, he cracked his fingers and neck and began to work once again.

Whoever had written this system and its security, Matt conceded some time later, had done a damn fine job. He was able, several times to secure a back door into the system, but several seconds later he was kicked out, and he had to work very hard to keep the system from back-tracking him to destroy his own computer. But Matt's own defenses were tight, and his fingers flew over the keyboard. He took another break, bought some more Monster, and walked around for fifteen minutes, rubbing his eyes. He settled into a more comfortable position and resumed.

The shadows lengthened, and the temperature dropped several degrees to make for a very nice night. Matt didn't notice. He had penetrated the first level. From here he was able to glimpse the more public of the private files. He searched furiously, his fingers pounding the keys. He guessed he had maybe five minutes before he was kicked out again. And, there, in Roger's own computer, a file marked with Near's name. He clicked 'Admittance' and started copying. Four and a half minutes later, Matt's computer turned off. He turned it back on and ran a complete diagnostic. It was fine; it had just turned off because Wammy's security had shut it down. Luckily for him, none of Matt's work was lost. He had emailed and saved the information he'd stolen on his backup computer; a laptop that wasn't connected to any network. Hopefully it would remain safe. Matt didn't think that anyone at Wammy's, including Roger, would try to crack _him_.

Now Matt moved to his backup laptop, and opened his email. There wasn't much, but hopefully there would be something that made it worthwhile. It looked like it was only an introduction to Near's file. Matt began to read.

_Pseudo: Near_

_Age: 5_

_Father deceased before Near's birth. Mother remarried when Near was three to a man with a son from a previous marriage. This much was available in public records. From private channels, Wammy's representatives have learned a bit more. _

_The child Near was diagnosed at the age of three with Asperger's Syndrome. It is speculated that he endured teasing from his step-brother for his differences, due to symptoms he has displayed of recent trauma. A certain amount of teasing also seems to have stemmed from an adult close to him, most likely his stepfather. He seems to have no unpleasant memories of his mother. _

_Mother died when Near was 4 of an aneurysm of the brain. Medical history shows no predisposition to aneurysms. Near's stepfather kept the boy for several months before convincing authorities that he did not have a suitable home in which to raise a child with AS. Near was removed to a state orphanage, where, despite his recent trauma, he displayed above-average intelligence. He was discovered shortly after his fifth birthday by a Wammy's House rep. _

The file ended here. There hadn't been any names except Near's, and that was fake. The only thing Matt had learned was that Near most likely had Asperger's. Matt couldn't decide if the foray had been worth it. He hadn't garnered a lot of information. On the other hand, he now had facts that he hadn't had before. He wasn't discouraged, though. If anything, he was even more driven. The snippet that he'd uncovered of Near's past only raised more questions, and Matt was determined to dig until he found answers.

Asperger's... if Matt remembered what he'd learned about AS correctly, the diagnosis seemed to fit. Suddenly, a lot of Near's mannerisms seemed to make sense. Repetitive motion; check. Near's constant hair-twirling corresponded perfectly. Restricted interests; double check. Near's need and drive to succeed L surpassed everything else about him. It practically defined him. This also applied, Matt supposed, to Near's toy collection. It was highly specialized, and narrow, and his obsession with action figures and jigsaw puzzles certainly seemed to match. Lack of empathy; check. Near certainly seemed to display very little empathy for those around him. Perhaps he didn't feel as if he could identify with the other children. He certainly hadn't pushed anyone away, instead politely declining when he was invited to play with the others. Even his posture, which was always so odd, fit right in place. Aspies frequently had impaired nonverbal behavior such as this.

Armed with this information, Matt couldn't help wondering what else would be revealed about Near now that he knew of the boy's condition. There were other problems he had to address first, however. For instance, staying in Wammy's system for longer than five minutes. This was more than just looking for a back door; Matt knew that he would have to devise a way to infiltrate the mainframe and remain undetected. His current programs weren't enough, and he knew he was looking at another full time project. Once he completed that (and wasn't that enough?) he would find out as much as he could about the other students; namely Near and Mello. And it wouldn't hurt to see what the files said about him, either.


	10. Summer

AN: /deep breath/ Thanks to: Love is Hate, Nyeh Creampuff, Count Sheepula, September Rhyme, BlakValentyne-U69, Kinder Wulf, Kitty Otaku, DaybreakFlower, specialsari, Sarcastic-Lovely-Kit, deikitty, and Arlende Madhatter for their reviews, and thanks to all my readers. And September Rhyme-you clever reader, you! Yes, a symptom of Asperger's _is_ clumsiness. However, in addition to doing my own research online, I have also read a couple autobiographies of people with AS, and their stories and my research suggest that no two cases are alike, and that not everyone manifests all the symptoms, or manifests them the same way. So, since I didn't have any evidence of Near being clumsy...I left it out. (Is that cheating? I prefer to think of it as artistic license. I hope no one minds!) I'm glad I have such astute and devoted readers! I'm currently working on the next chapter, so thanks for your patience, and please continue to look for updates!

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June

School was out. From the immaculately manicured lawns, children shrieked with laughter, ran through hoses, or lazed around luxuriating in three unmarred months of freedom. Well, most of them did. As expected, a focused group of students remained inside; taking classes all through the summer. These were the dedicated, the obsessed. In some cases, the bottom of the class were trying to catch up. But their higher ranking classmates offered no respite; they were studying just as hard to stay ahead.

Matt was enjoying himself. While he longed for long days without obligation, he was taking classes that weren't offered at any other time of the year. And he was almost certain that next summer there would be more advanced courses available to him. He chuckled to himself. He never would have imagined that he'd be looking forward to _next year's_ summer school.

After careful consideration, Matt had decided not to say anything to Mello about Near's past. For one thing, Matt didn't have as much information as he'd like to start talking about someone else's past, and for another, he didn't think that Mello needed any more ammunition against Near. Not that he was on Near's side or anything. But Mello picked on the boy mercilessly, and Matt almost felt sorry for Near. It wasn't as if Asperger's had really harmed Near. By definition, those with Asperger's did not suffer from any delay in cognitive development. But it seemed like the boy had endured enough teasing about it already. Matt didn't want to add to his suffering. If he was suffering. Which Matt could not be sure of. Sometimes Near appeared quite content in his world. He was certainly doing well enough in school, and that seemed to bring Near some amount of pleasure. Matt wondered if Near didn't also take pleasure in constantly thwarting Mello with seemingly no effort. Perhaps, due to his condition, he just didn't care. There was really no point in speculating about it, Matt told himself. It was unlikely that that particular question would be answered any time soon.

Matt didn't see Near or Mello in any of his summer classes. They were both taking the same courses, and their summer school schedule consisted of supplementing their regular season workload. Since there were highly specialized fields of study offered at Wammy's, many of the children had never properly met each other. Until their interests crossed paths in the classroom, many of them never even saw each other. Matt's classes during the summer were courses that had sounded interesting to him; the only reason he did anything was to alleviate boredom. There was a practical class that focused on espionage, and allowed the students to do some field work, albeit in a controlled situation. There were rumors, however, that this was merely a prerequisite; the next stage of this course offered the opportunity to do something _real._ Of course, no one could say what the _real_ things were. Matt was also taking an advanced Graphics Design class and Vector Calculus, both of which were offered during the regular school year but which moved too slowly in Matt's opinion. He waited for the summer courses; which were, by necessity, about four times faster. The homework for all of his classes was intense, as there was so much to be covered in so short a time. Matt found he liked the fast-paced environment. At least for the summer. He wasn't sure if he wanted classes to be like this all the time. In his spare time, which was not at all copious, Matt continued to perfect his programs in an attempt to crack Wammy's system wide open.

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July

The end of June and the beginning of July faded imperceptibly into each other. The days were long, hot and bright. Temperatures rose steadily until they reached the low 90s. They stayed that way for the better part of a week without respite. Finally, severe thunderstorms rolled in from the coast, and the temperatures dipped back down to a more comfortable 80-something. The thunderstorms lasted two days, but when they finally stopped, everything felt clean and new. Breezes offered temporary respite from the heat.

Even during the weekend, they studied. But when the shadows lengthened, Mello could sometimes be persuaded to leave his notes for a time and accompany Matt for a walk around the grounds. They were both busy, however, and the walks never lasted long. Still, it was enough, for the time, to be able to see each other, and have a sense of normalcy. Though the days were long, there seemed to be less and less time. Coursework ate up most of their free hours, and left them quite tired at the end of the day. But when Matt finally went to bed, it was a happy kind of tired.

It was Saturday. The brilliant blue sky curved brightly overhead, unmarred by clouds. The sun was a bright pinprick directly overhead. The air was still but for the droning of insects basking in the heat. Matt was perched on Mello's bed, wheedling with his friend.

"Please," he all but begged. "I've never been to the pool here, before."

"What makes you think I want to go? Go by yourself."

"But then who would I swim with?" Matt reasoned.

"Swim by yourself," Mello scoffed. "You _can_ swim, can't you?"

"Of course I can! But what's the point in going by myself? Come _on_, Mello. I know you're done with your homework. I know you're _ahead_ of your homework. Just come with me. For a few hours. Please?" He could see Mello's resolve weakening. The blond boy hesitated. "It'll be fun. And good for us; to get some exercise."

Mello sighed hugely and Matt knew he'd won. He bounded across the hall to change into his swim trunks. Mello met him in the hall a short time later, a towel slung over one shoulder. "Come on," he called, leading the way.

Wammy's had two pools. One was indoor, and was used mainly during the winter, and for teaching the younger children how to swim. The other was an inground pool outside, fully supervised by a lifeguard. Wammy's would take no chances with the geniuses it was raising. When Matt and Mello finally arrived at the pool, they found it to be packed with like-minded kids. The lifeguard made them both apply generous amounts of sunscreen, and it was a good thing, too. Matt and Mello were both naturally pale, and they had little exposure to the outdoors. They staked out an area by spreading their towels out, and then caught each other's eye. Without another word, they raced to the edge and jumped in.

Once he was in the pool, Mello seemed to quite enjoy himself. He swam races with Matt (who lost every single one), and playfully dunked his friend. Matt was even able to dunk Mello a couple of times. Mello did a few inexpert dives off the boards, while Matt cannonballed. They stayed until the pool emptied, and the sun had set. Then, the lifeguards kicked them out and told them to go eat something. Matt and Mello toweled off, and trudged, happy but tired, to shower.

Matt stepped into the shower, glad he had worn sunscreen. Even with it on, his shoulders had turned a delicate shade of pink. He started with cooler water, but kept adjusting it to be a little hotter. As he washed the chlorine from his hair, he was glad that he had convinced Mello to spend one day normally. The way he might have spent a summer day if he hadn't been...here. Matt sighed good-naturedly. Tomorrow, he knew, it would be back to the same old routine of studying. And studying, and sleep, and studying, in a never-ending cycle. Today had been the aberration. Tomorrow, things would return to normal.


	11. Exams

AN: Thanks to all my reviewers, and everyone who put this story on alert or fav'd it! Also, thanks to new reviewers C Elise and cratermaker. (I know, I didn't write everyone's name this time...but I still love you!) Working on chapter 12 even as we speak (as I write...? as you read...?) Also, check my main page, 'cause I updated it regarding a new fic (shameless self-promotion!). _

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August

There was only one week left of summer school, and then even the hardcore students would be given a break before classes resumed at the beginning of fall. The rank listings would be posted on the first day of school, and they were a topic of much debate amongst those vying for a top position. Those who had taken the summer off would be in for an unpleasant surprise-not that they shouldn't have been expecting it. The present rank listing was current only until the end of the regular school year. But it would change drastically before the normal school year resumed once more, due to the heavily weighted classes offered during the summer. With exams fast approaching, Mello became even more irascible and secluded. He secluded himself and studied for hours on end. In his own way, Near was doing the same. He showed no outward signs of changing his behavior, but he was less often seen playing with toys, and more often seen with books and notes.

Matt was worried for his friend, but all attempts to broach any subject were met with thinly veiled hostility. Mello probably didn't want to antagonize Matt _too_ much, but he was too absorbed in studying to give much of a damn what he did as long as he was left to study in peace. In the interest of their friendship, and the wish to avoid a confrontation with Mello, Matt gave his friend his space.

Matt studied desultorily. He found it hard to concentrate, and looked forward to some uninterrupted free time in which to explore the system. He would have to wait out the week, however. This was too large a project for him to embark upon whilst studying for exams. One more day of classes, of studying, and then it would be exam time. And then, a breath of summer before they were all plunged once again into school.

Matt stayed up the last night before exams, playing Pokemon. He drowsed through school the next day, but none of his teachers said anything. The last day was spent in review. Matt figured that if he felt like studying, he could do it after school; wasn't that the normal progression of things? School was for learning; after school was for homework. Or review. And once classes _were_ out, Matt obligingly read through his Vector Calculus notes. Satisfied that he had done all he could to prepare, he turned his attention once again to his handheld.

The first day of exams, for Matt, was Vector Calculus. He finished his test first, and then spent a few moments worrying if maybe that was a bad sign. Maybe he'd finished first because he'd had no idea what he was doing. Maybe he'd rushed through all the problems, only to get them wrong. Matt ran a quick eye over his answers, but they looked alright to him. He shrugged and turned it in. The rest of the day, Matt spent on his computer. The Graphic Design final was tomorrow, and he wanted to assuage his conscience by at least _appearing_ to be brushing up on his skills. He didn't know why he bothered trying to fool himself. Anyway, he knew all that stuff. Probably.

The Graphic Design final was like being given a homework assignment; they were given a project to work on, to be completed by the end of exam time. 'Easy breezy,' Matt thought smugly. He knew just how to complete his objective; he set to work. Matt didn't finish first this time; he was having too much fun. But he did finish with plenty of time to spare, and he left the class feeling confident. Thursday, tomorrow, would be his last final; Espionage. There had been precious little there in the way of notes, so Matt thought stealthy thoughts, and played Doom on his gaming computer (not to be confused, of course, with his super-computer).

The Espionage final exam was a practical one, testing all that the students had learned in the 'field'. The class was small enough to test all the students at different times, as if by appointment. Matt tailed a mark, and obtained information that he had to pass along to one of three people. A large portion of the exam consisted of which person Matt chose to confide in; he would be graded on the subtle clues he should have picked up on, as well as whether or not he had stayed true to his 'cell' rather than be confused by false flags. It was by far the weirdest test he'd ever taken.

Friday, there were still exams taking place, but Matt was free. He celebrated by doing a lot of nothing at all. He slept in, then played 'Legends of Future Past' until well past two in the afternoon. When he finally quit, it was only because he was hungry. He searched the floor of his room and came up with half a bag of chips. They were under the bed; even in his laziness, Matt wouldn't leave food too close to his computers, which often occupied his floor space. Hunger sated, he went to find Mello, who should be done with his exams by now.

Matt found Mello sitting under a tree outside. He looked content for the first time in weeks. "What's up?" Matt greeted him. Mello looked up. He had a book propped against his lap and a bottle of lemonade close to hand.

"Hey," Mello acknowledged.

"You do alright?" Matt asked.

"Yeah," Mello smiled. "Yeah, I think I did."

Matt sat down. "Good. So, you lookin' forward to school?"

"Looking forward to the rank listings."

Matt sighed. "Yeah. You gonna read for awhile?"

"I think so. Want to join me?"

"Sure. I brought my Gameboy, just in case." Matt settled in next to Mello, his back resting comfortably against the tree. He hadn't seen Mello this...well...mellow in awhile. It was kind of refreshing. And...relaxing. Of course, Mello would probably be on tenterhooks until the rank lists came out, and depending on how he'd done, he could be ecstatic or volatile. Either one would be hard to deal with. Matt sighed internally. It was hard being friends with someone whose mood swings rivaled that of a teenage girl's.

The afternoon passed in companionable silence. As the sun began to set, and the insects to drone, the two friends gathered their things and went inside to dinner. Matt didn't know what Mello was planning to do with his three weeks of summer, but he, Matt, would be starting his infiltration mission into the Wammy files tomorrow. Even though it was a Saturday and his entire self screamed for more gaming.

Come Saturday, Matt holed himself up in his room, armed with a case of Mountain Dew and a pile of candy bars for energy. He began writing code.

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AN2: Btw, not that I think this is really relevant to anything...but I looked up things like Matt's games/gaming systems and what the weather was in the UK in the mid 1990s to write this fic...is that weird? (Not that there's any mention of weather in this chapter...)


	12. Results and Urban Survival

AN: Hi, readers! You guys are amazing, did you know that? You make me feel justified. So: thanks to everyone who reads this. Super thanks to all reviewers (you know who you are). And thanks to everyone who put this on fave or alert. This is a quick update because I feel like I'm ignoring you readers (I'm not!) and I wanted to reward your patience. Or something. I'm hard at work on another story, which I intend to post soon. But I'm writing a lot of it before I start posting, which is different from GB, for the most part. I'm also working on the next chapter, which I think will be the fabled 'should I time-skip to here...?' chapter. Thanks for convincing me otherwise. (That doesn't mean it's going to be the last chapter!) Thanks for sticking with me. I really appreciate it.

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Late August

The day after Near's birthday, a week before the regular school year resumed, the rank listings were posted. The ranks were current after taking into account the summer classes, and even those who hadn't taken summer school eagerly checked their status, because if one person had moved up, then someone else might have moved down. Soon, the rank listings would change again, but the next official post would not be until after first term. Mello got up early to check, and dragged Matt out of bed to go with him.

There was a signboard with a sheaf of papers attached to Roger's door; it was here that a group of children already clustered. Mello forced his way to the front, and the other students fell back, suddenly not quite so interested in their own scores. When Mello turned away a few seconds later, his face was triumphant.

"First!" he crowed. He punched Matt on the arm in a fit of high spirits. "Take _that,_ Near!" Matt moved forward to see where he ranked. There was Mello's name, right at the top. Underneath it, second by seven tenths of a percentile, was Near. And directly under that, was Matt's name. He smiled. Not bad.

"Okay. We came, we saw, we conquered," Matt said.

"I sure did!" Mello congratulated himself.

"So can we go, now?"

"What? Sure." They turned to leave, and some of the orphans dared to offer weak smiles towards Mello, in congratulation. Mello ignored them. Once he had passed beyond the throng of students, however, he stopped. Making his way down the hall towards them, towards the rank list, was Near. His finger was already in his hair. "Come to check on how you did?" Mello taunted. From his tone it was evident to all that he already knew how Near had done, and didn't care, because Mello had beat him. "Don't let me stand in your way."

Near could have figured, from Mello's lack of wrath, that his rival hadn't gotten second place, but he walked up to the door, anyway. The others parted for him as well, but it was more out of respect than of fear. Near's eyes flicked briefly to the top of the page, and then away. His finger twisted the more tightly behind his ear. "Congratulations, Mello," he offered graciously.

"Happy birthday, Near," Mello smirked. He was as bad a winner as he was a loser.

"Thank you," Near responded, almost automatically. "Good luck in the coming year, Mello."

Mello's eyes narrowed. He had heard the part of the sentence that Near had left off: "you're going to need it." So, Near wasn't above offering challenges. "Whatever, Shorty," he sneered. "This year's going to be different from last, and this is just the beginning. C'mon, Matt." And he shouldered through the new arrivals, pulling Matt along in his wake.

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September

The school year finally resumed. The orphans stared wistfully outside. The sun was still bright, warming the grounds, and the birds beckoned from beyond the walls. The windows were open to allow in a breeze, and through them, the students could hear the wind through the trees, and the low drone of insects. It was hard to concentrate, but the classes, as always, were demanding, and their attention was captured by their professors, eager to impart their knowledge.

Matt was continuing his study of computers and computer languages, but he was also taking a class called Urban Survival. It had been a bit difficult to enroll in this particular class, as it was usually reserved for older, 'more mature' students. But it had sounded interesting to Matt, so he'd spoken to Roger, and Roger had agreed that Matt should be able to enlist, as well. Matt was always looking for something to capture his attention, and didn't like that he had almost been denied something that sounded so intriguing. But as he was ranked third in the entire orphanage, there were no classes closed to him.

Urban Survival, Matt soon found out, was worth the small amount of trouble he'd gone to, to ensure a place in the class. The teacher, firstly, didn't look anything like a teacher, even for Wammy's House. The man dressed as if he had just walked in off the streets. He appeared very casual, but there was a sharpness to him, an alertness. There was a lightening quick brain behind his laid-back appearance.

Urban Survival was a misleading name for the class. Matt probably would have named it, 'Slightly Shady Survival Techniques,' but then, he wasn't a very subtle person when he wasn't behind a monitor. The teacher promised to teach his students how to pickpocket, how to hotwire any car, and how to pick locks and crack safes. Basic surveillance was also on the agenda, as was, of course, avoiding being surveilled by others. Sleight of hand, the art of misdirection, and scaling small walls would also be covered. Matt was thrilled. How he'd stumbled across this class, he wasn't sure, but he was glad that he had. For this year, at least, he kissed boredom goodbye.


	13. Where There's Fire

AN: Sorry for the long update time! But here we go again. Quickly; huge thanks to the following: Mother of Anarchy, Nyeh Creampuff, Love is Hate, September Rhyme, Kinder Wulf, Kitty Otaku, BlakValentyne-U69, deikitty, Kit-Cub-Suzume, specialsari, Daybreak Flower, gonzomouse, cratermaker, C Elise, and Arlende Madhatter. And thanks to all the anonymous readers, and everyone who fav'd or alert'd this. I'm working on the next chapter, and please see the bottom for another AN before leaving!_

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October_

Matt was listening to some of the teachers talking during break. They gave no indication that they'd seen him, so either they were ignoring him or (and this was the option Matt preferred to consider) his spying classes were finally paying off. He was fairly certain this was the case.

It was quite interesting to listen to them. Matt had hoped to learn what the teachers thought of the students-mainly Mello, Near, and himself, but they were discussing everyday topics. This was alright too; they were providing Matt a treasure trove of information about their personal lives. They were little things, like who had a sick niece, or what they'd prefer to be doing on the weekends, but Matt had a good memory, and he'd be able to piece together quite a bit about them with a few more sessions. One of the teachers, Matt thought she might teach music or something, lit a cigarette and offered it to the others. He watched the smoke wisp away in the early morning air.

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Late October

Halloween was approaching, and ornaments began to go up, as did fall-themed decorations. Neither Mello nor Matt were particularly inclined to go trick-or-treating this year. Gone were the days when they'd felt so carefree. Mello would hardly agree to anything that might take away some of his precious study time, and Matt was busy with his own projects. Still, there were plenty of children who got into the mood, and Matt wondered when he'd ever found the time. The staff seemed overly enthusiastic about it all, and Matt wondered if that was to make up for all the students who were showing such a lack of interest, which was mostly the top ten percentile.

Halloween came and went. Matt took a few hours to play Doom on his computer in his own celebration of the 'holiday spirit'. Mello, who was currently in first place, ignored it completely in favor of studying.

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November

The days began to seem gray. Without any leaves on the trees, the only colors in the landscape came from the grass and the sky. But the grass was anticipating winter, and it seemed as if the color had been leached away in preparation for the long sleep that was coming. Even the sky was steely more often than not. Bad weather was returning.

Matt was putting together a dossier on all the professors that he could track. He was doing it just for fun, to test his knowledge and skills. Also, his foray into the Wammy's files was proving difficult, as he'd known it would, and he needed a break from the constant disappointment.

Some of the teachers seemed quite oblivious, especially members of the administration, such as Roger. Matt had a sneaking suspicion, however, that some of them were on to him. These teachers were the harder targets, as they taught the classes on tailing people, and Matt figured that if anyone knew what was up, they would. They didn't seem to have mentioned anything to their colleagues, however, for which Matt was grateful. He'd hate for his hand to be tipped and be forced into stopping his recreation.

As November got used to itself, Matt decided to test out some more of his newly learned techniques. There weren't many cars to hotwire, nor walls to scale, but Matt was quite sure that he would be able to swipe or pickpocket just about anything. He practiced during the breaks between classes when the halls were filled with students. People who carried bags with them were especially easy targets. Zippers left undone, chains hanging out of the sides of bags, were almost too easy for Matt, who had practiced in his Urban Survival class for weeks, now. He fished cash out of pockets and lifted small charms and packs of gum. Matt also employed reverse pickpocketing methods, so as to return everything to their rightful owners. He wasn't interested in acquiring anything. He was just practicing. With every success, Matt's confidence grew, and he felt justified in moving on to bigger things.

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December

Not for the first time, Matt wished that he and Mello had birthdays in the spring or summer. It just didn't seem fair that they got birthday presents so close to Christmas. Mello's birthday was less than a month from Christmas, and it felt weird to give him two big gifts so close together and then nothing else for the rest of the year. But there was nothing to be done about it, of course. Not that Mello complained, or even seemed overly concerned with material goods. But Matt, whose birthday was less than two months after Christmas, felt cheated, somehow. It was irrational, but there it was. What Matt would have liked to have gotten Mello would be peace of mind. Near was once again in first place, and he had come back in front with a wide margin, much to Mello's ire. Matt wished that he could gift-wrap self-confidence for his friend, or maybe give him a higher GPA. He couldn't think of anything that Mello would want more (or be more hesitant to give voice to). As it was, Matt had to be content with finding something that Mello could actually hold on to.

For his birthday, Matt got Mello a pair of leather gloves, and for Christmas, he'd picked out a Bible with the pages edged in gold. Already, Christmas at Wammy's was starting to feel normal. The homesickness he had felt last year was still there, but it was dulled by time and familiarity. It had taken a backseat to his many projects, and to Mello, and to distance. Soon, he would celebrate his two year anniversary of living here. And right after that he would turn ten. It was hard to believe. The time seemed to have disappeared.

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Middle of February

New Year's, and Matt's birthday, had come and gone. Both were cold, snowy days. Matt wasn't overly concerned with birthday celebrations. He had felt a momentary thrill knowing that he was now in 'double digits', but he had gotten over that fairly quickly. His mind was on other things. He was planning to swipe something from his Urban Survival teacher's desk. Matt thought that this would be an accurate measure of his prowess; if he could lift something from the man who had taught him _how_ to lift and not be noticed, well, surely it would mean _something_. That he was good, no doubt. Matt felt torn between wanting recognition for his feat (should he accomplish it) and the need to keep a low profile.

On a Wednesday morning, Matt saw his chance. He had been carefully observing his professor for weeks, but he changed habits occasionally. Today, however, as he entered the classroom and began ordering his things, he left a small box on the corner of the desk. Matt observed this from his vantage point in the hallway, and seized his opportunity as he filed in with a few of his classmates. On his way by the desk, Matt casually ran his fingers along the wood, palming the box. He pushed it with a finger a little way up his sleeve and sat down. All through that day's lesson, Matt felt sure that he would be discovered. Surely it would be missed? But there was no cry of surprise, no accusations leveled at the class. Matt barely heard a word that was said, so intent was he on his stolen prize. He fairly bolted when time was up, and secured himself in his room, panting as if he'd just run a mile.

Matt stared at them for several days after he swiped them. He pulled them out, looked at them, twirled them through his fingers. They had a sweet smell when unlit, and he wished he could have described it better, but he didn't have the words.

The first time he lit one, he was scared witless. He kept expecting Roger or somebody to burst through his door. He didn't know what he expected to happen next; probably he would be dragged off to be punished somewhere. Smoking, he was quite sure, would not be allowed. But no one so much as knocked on the door, and Matt was left feeling both thrilled with new discovery and sick with dread.

When first lit, the tip glowed a bright red, like the embers over which he and Mello had toasted marshmallows so long ago. The cigarette glowed dully after that, gathering ash. The smoke from the end wisped away, and Matt watched its slow climb to the ceiling before it thinned out to nothing. He watched shapes and patterns in the smoke for awhile, as fascinated by it now as he'd been when he saw the teachers smoking outside.

After it was lit, the cigarette smelled...stale. It wasn't nearly as nice as when it was unlit. Also, after watching it burn, it looked like it was going to go out. Matt was still expecting Roger to break down his door at any second. He watched it burn down to nothing.

The second time Matt lit one of his pilfered cigarettes, he made sure to check the halls for adults, and then locked the door. He opened his window and brought the match tip to the cigarette end. Hesitantly, Matt brought the filter to his lips. He closed his eyes and willed himself to inhale, because if he chickened out now, he didn't know when he'd be able to scrape up the courage to try again. He parted his lips, and inhaled.

Matt brought the smoke into his mouth. It seemed as easy as breathing. Matt could hardly believe it. He'd always vaguely thought of smoking as being at least somewhat difficult. Certainly, everyone always complained of how hard it was to quit. Matt smiled; he'd done it! It had been easy, and he'd done it. He didn't know, now, why he'd been so scared in the first place. Feeling far more confident, Matt took a longer pull on the cigarette, drawing the smoke through the filter, into his lungs. He held it there for just a moment, and then exhaled. And almost choked. Matt started coughing, careful, even now, to hold the cigarette away from himself, and not drop it lest he start a fire. His lungs burned. He coughed again, attempting to clear his lungs. Finally, he was able to breathe normally again. What, he wondered, the hell? What had _that_ been? Did smoking get harder every time you tried it? No; that couldn't be the case. If it were, no one would continue. Of that he was certain. In that case, one of the times he'd inhaled had to have been done improperly. But which one? Matt couldn't very well _ask_ anybody. He'd never thought that _smoking_ would raise any questions. It seemed so self-explanatory. Matt was now extremely reluctant to take another drag, but he didn't see any other way to satisfy his curiosity. Matt brought the cigarette back to his lips with trepidation. 'No,' he told himself firmly. 'This must be done with confidence. I can't do this if I half expect to fail.' He took another long drag. The back of his throat itched. But as he was was prepared for the odd sensation, he didn't start hacking again. He fancied he could _feel_ the smoke in his lungs, and maybe he could. This wasn't so bad. It was sort of in-between his first and second tries. While the cigarette lasted, Matt experimented with different ways of smoking it, until he was fairly certain he had the hang of it. While it still felt weird to introduce an alien substance into his body, by the time Matt had finished the cigarette, he felt like he had grasped the concept. It wasn't hard to smoke; it was hard to get used to it.

Matt couldn't have said why, once he'd lifted the cigarettes, he didn't just put them back as he'd done for all of his other experiments. Perhaps it was his insatiable curiosity getting the better of him. He knew how stupid it was to smoke, but he wanted to try it so badly, just to see what it was like. Besides, he didn't feel addicted. He wasn't craving another cigarette. He had merely taken his experiment to the next level. And he'd learned something. But he didn't feel like returning them. Surely his teacher would notice that there were a few missing. And then he would wonder where they'd been all this time... No, better for him to think he had mislaid them and get a new pack. Matt would keep the half-empty one for himself. He hid the pack deep in his sock drawer, and hoped it would be enough.

The next day, the knowledge of his stolen goods weighed on Matt's mind. He didn't feel bad that he had taken them; he was worried they'd be discovered. He didn't want to be in trouble, even if there was no real way to prove that he'd done more than take the pack. But that they were in his room at all was enough circumstantial evidence to get him in deep with Roger, and Matt didn't want that. After classes that day, Matt moved the pack from his sock drawer to under his mattress, but in the back of his mind, a voice was screaming that this was the first place they checked. Matt knew it was irrational; no one would check his room for anything. They had no reason to. Still, he couldn't quiet that voice, and he moved the cigarettes again, this time to inside his air vent. He felt they were secure there; not even Roger would think to look inside his air vents. Right?

The day after, Matt began to think that maybe it was a good idea to get rid of the evidence all together. He locked his door and cracked open the window, ignoring the wintry air that gusted through. He lit a cigarette and smoked it as quickly as he could. When he was done with the first, he lit a second, but after only a few puffs, he began to feel sick. Matt stubbed it out, and replaced it in its box. He waved a hand in front of his face to clear away any smoke, and got up to put the cigarettes back in their hiding place. He would have to wait until tomorrow, and smoke the remaining cigarettes one day at a time.

Matt had ten cigarettes left, and as February waned, he smoked them all. By the end of the pack, he had to admit it to himself; he was addicted.

AN(2): So...this is where I wanted to time skip to. And I wanted to time skip here because I wasn't at all certain that I could write the intervening time. Thanks to your input, loyal readers, I _did_ write it, and I'm glad I did. But I needed Matt to be at least ten to start smoking. And before anyone has a cow (though they are delicious) ten is when my mom started smoking. And I work with a guy who started when he was eight. Granted, they were all exposed to people who smoked, and Matt wasn't, but he's a curious little bugger. Oh, and one more thing; you can get addicted to smoking from ONE cigarette, so if you don't already smoke, please don't start (sorry for the public service announcement).


	14. The Swing of Things

AN: I bet you all thought I died or something. Well, I didn't, and I also didn't give up on this story. I guess I've been busy, but I also just wasn't feeling it. So; sorry for making you wait so long! But I'm back.

Thanks to: Mother of Anarchy, Nyeh Creampuff, Love is Hate, September Rhyme, Kinder Wulf, Kitty Otaku, BlakValentyne-U69, deikitty, Kit-Cub-Suzume, specialsari, Daybreak Flower, gonzomouse, cratermaker, C Elise, Arlende Madhatter, and yaven for reviewing, and thanks to everyone who fav'd this, put it on alert, or read(s) it at all.

I know where I want to go with this fic, but it'll be awhile getting there. Shall I continue? (I think I will anyway, no matter what!) Thanks for sticking with me, everyone, and I hope you'll continue to do so, until the conclusion (which I am _nowhere near_ yet)!

Btw; yaven: once upon a time, when I wrote the chapter, I had some great idea in my head as to where they got the money for the vending machines, but of course I've forgotten it now. But I do love how astute all of my readers are; keep questioning me! It keeps me on my toes. For now, let's just say...they get pocket money every so often. Will that work? I mean, L is pretty affluent, so I would assume that there is money of his set aside specifically for the children of Wammy's. Also, Watari is rich cuz of all his inventions, and he loves kids. So maybe he thought of the little things, such as not only putting vending machines in his orphanage, but also making sure the kids could _use_ said vending machines. I hope you'll accept that answer! Anyway, on to the chap!

_March_

As February blended into March, Matt started actively looking for cigarettes. He had exhausted his supply, yet he craved more. He hated himself, just a little, for being so foolish. He had known, going into this experiment of his, that he could easily become addicted. But he had done it anyway, believing himself strong enough not to succumb. He had been wrong about himself. It was a hard lesson to swallow, but there was nothing he could do about it now. He needed a smoke; he felt almost as irritable as Mello, and it seemed harder for him to concentrate. He had gone a couple of days without a cigarette, and he felt ready to lash out at the first person who looked at him cock-eyed. Feeling desperate, Matt haunted the footsteps of one of the teachers who he knew smoked, and awaited his chance to filch some.

It was easy enough to lift a few smokes from her purse, and the slight twinge of guilt Matt felt washed away as the first few drags circulated through his system. He felt instantly calmer. He had some smokes; they would tide him over for now. He could get more later. And no one was the wiser.

* * *

April

Once again, Matt found himself in Mello's room. Mello was sitting cross-legged on his bed, books spread out before him. His hair kept swinging forward and getting in his eyes, and every few minutes he would push it out of his face with an exasperated sigh. Matt wanted to suggest that he pull it back, but the only things to secure it would be barrettes, or maybe a hair tie. And Mello hated, hated, _hated_ any allusions to the fact that he might possibly look anything at all like a girl.

At ten, Mello was still slender, and his hair hung straight around his chin. Life at Wammy's wasn't all roses, even for the sometimes top-ranked child. Kids that had been there for ages, only to be usurped by 'punk kids' like Mello often felt more than a little incensed. It was a good thing that Mello had already made a name for himself as a tough guy; it kept most of the other kids off his back. Every once in awhile, however, someone thought that it would be a good idea to take Mello on. They quickly found themselves beaten and humiliated, but it bothered Mello that he should have to defend himself at all. More often the attacks on him were verbal, labeling him as everything from teacher's pet (which he _wasn't)_ to a girl. It was the remarks on his physical appearance that made Mello the angriest. For, as he pointed out, how could _he_ control what he looked like? But even on genius children, logic didn't always apply, and he was teased more often than he would like by jealous competitors.

Matt knew it was also futile to suggest a haircut. Mello had his hair cut about every six weeks, like clockwork. It always grew back fairly quickly. And Matt had no desire to be snapped at right now; Mello had a test coming up, and any interruptions were likely to result in loss of limbs. Matt sighed, wishing that there was more he could do to help his friend. As it was, he had to be content just sharing some time with Mello, even if it was the silent kind. Matt settled his back more firmly against the bed and turned to his own homework. Math would keep him occupied for awhile. His notebook was propped up against his drawn-up knees, and his book lay open on the floor beside him. Matt's pencil scritched across the page, quiet accompaniment to the occasional turning of pages that issued from Mello's perch.

* * *

Late April

At the end of the school day, when all was confusion, Matt fought his way through the halls, going from classroom to classroom. There were many rooms that he did not visit. No one watching could have determined a pattern in his movements. No one _was_ watching, but Matt didn't know that. The point was, if someone _had_ been, he would not have been in any way obvious. Matt was stocking up on cigarettes, stealing them a few at a time from many different sources, and he had to silently thank his Urban Survival class, as well as his espionage classes, for making this possible. He would escape detection; he knew that now. They had given him the tools he needed to feed his vice, and they didn't even know it.

Matt finally reached the safety of his room, his pockets and bag filled with stolen goods. He locked the door behind him and carefully removed all the cigarettes he had pilfered. He kept them in a small box to preserve them, and he hid the box behind his wall vent. He felt giddy with success. Maybe he would never be a spy, but he was a damn good pickpocket. Matt didn't even care that that wasn't such a nice thing to be. He took pride in all of his accomplishments. To celebrate this particular heist, he lit one of his smokes and inhaled deeply, pulling the smoke into his lungs. Then he turned to something he had not yet accomplished; the breaking of Wammy's system.

* * *

May

By May, the bad weather had gone for good. New grasses had come in, and flowers were blooming on the hillsides. The end of the year was approaching again, and Matt could hardly believe how the days had flown by. He hoped, for Mello's sake, that his friend would come out on top this year. They still had weeks to wait, however, and the intervening time was not spent idly.

Matt's forays into the technological world were proving frustrating. He suspected that the system itself was changing. Or, more likely, that someone was actively trying to thwart him by changing the system just days after he thought he'd gotten a lock on it. Whoever it was (if it _was_ a person and not a mutating system) was very good, and could probably type faster than he could. Matt resolved next year to look up some typing classes, if such a thing existed. He thought he'd gotten a good handle on typing from all his computer classes, but there was usually room for improvement.

In the meantime, Matt was able to coax Mello outside for games of soccer, despite the rigid study schedule Mello had set up for himself. Exams were approaching, but Mello agreed that the brain needed to rest sometimes, so as not to become overworked and therefore lose all power of retention.

Mello still seemed fiercely competitive, but on days like these, when they were outside, away from Near, away from books, Matt dared to hope that he hadn't lost his friend to a challenge he wished to be no part of. It was almost like old times. After one such day, when the weather had been too inviting _not_ to go out (and after Mello had finished studying), Matt and Mello played a pick-up game of soccer on the main lawn. Mello made sure his team won, and as the shadows began to lengthen, he and Matt flopped on the grass to catch their breaths.

Matt smiled. He was hot, but flushed with victory. He laughed for the pure joy of life, and thanked his body for endorphins. He also thanked his body for not betraying him with shortness of breath or a hacking cough from smoking. Beside him, Mello smiled back. "That was fun," Matt breathed.

"Yeah," Mello agreed. "Hey, did you see how I scored my second goal? Just _right under_ that guy-! He was way too slow for me."

"Yeah," Matt agreed. "Cool." He stared up at the sky and watched as the setting sun painted the clouds. "Hey, we should do something fun," Matt suggested.

"Like what? Didn't we just do something fun?" Mello reminded him.

"Yeah, but, something else. Like, I dunno, stay up late and play pranks or something."

"What kind of pranks?" Mello asked.

"Oh, I don't know. I was just thinking out loud."

"Yeah." Mello pillowed his arms under his head. "Or we could just play video games or something."

Matt sat bolt upright. "Really? 'Cause I was gonna say that, only I didn't think you would want to."

Mello laughed. "I guess," he replied. "I mean, if you want to."

"Well, yeah," Matt assured him. "Or whatever you want. Something. You know."

"Yeah."

They stayed there, watching the sky darken and feeling the grass cool around them, until well past dinner, after which they went inside to scrounge some candy.

* * *


End file.
